The Turning Point
by Zyro is sorry
Summary: Two strangers meet at an outcast tavern. An evening filled with drinks, fun stories and the begin of a friendship.


After the sun had disappeared behind the horizon of the woodlands, the night laid down on the land like a thick piece of cloth.  
While the good citizens and hard working servants tried to get some well earned sleep, the lights in an old rundown inn at a crossroad just outside of the town where still glowing.  
The 'Turning Point' was a gathering point for every kind of adventurer, soldier of fortune, headhunter and mercenary, but of shady people and failed euphemists as well, just any kind of scum that was unwanted inside of the cities walls.

As usual, a colorful mixed bunch of people was present at the plain tavern.  
All eyes were laying on the people at the bar, a sturdy, heavily armored dwarf and a heavily muscled human, that were both simultaneously drinking their enormous tankards down in one. A remarkable pile of empty drinking vessels behind them gave evidence of the already consumed amount of bitter brew. The dwarf finished first and set his jug back down on the table with a loud noise. His opponent seemingly began loosing control over his legs, his half filled tankard left the grip of his shaking hands, dropping to the ground and spilling its liquid content over the floor.  
The human stood unsteady and with empty eyes, just for a moment, before he gave in and fell down unconcious. With the hands raised in a triumphant manner and while being cheered at by the audience the dwarf let out a loud and extensive burp.  
"_**OOOAAAAAAHHH**_" he yelled cross eyed, his eyes blurred by alcohol.  
"_**NHOOBADDY can beesht THORWALD SILBERWELZER! Notta shingel one!**_"  
His distorted gaze travelled through the room once more with growing self confidence, before his brain shut off and he dropped like a chopped down tree.  
The other drinkers roared of laughter as his heavy body slammed down on the floor.  
Peacefully slumbering, the dwarf and his drinking opponent were dragged to a quiet corner and left there up to their drunkenness and the people got back to minding their own business.

Of the wild mix of people, one person stood out in particular, even if her posture made clear that she wished not to be noticed.  
Sitting alone at an empty table sat the half-orc Zanla, with her hands playing somewhat nervously with her half-full jug.  
She would've been kicked out at every other inn except the 'Turning Point', but even here she got some evil looks.  
A burly guy named Rowen openly offended her just some days ago, insulting her until she nearly broke his hand in a game of arm wrestling. Something she was still sorry about. At least he kept his mouth shut and it looks like she earned the respect of some other frequenters.  
While thinking of the idea, that she may be somewhat accepted, her lips formed a smile around her tusks, which she immediately tried to cover up by raising her jug and taking a mouthful of mead, so that nobody would notice.  
With her magic abilities, she would've been in better company with other sorcerers or scholars than in this flophouse. The journey to this town so far tuned out to be a real disappointment.  
She was allowed to enter the city, but nobody wanted an half-orc in his shop or restaurant and even the guards of the library made clear that her kind wouldn't got the permission to enter. And nobody in the entire town was willing to risk his reputation by hiring a half-orc for a decent job.  
Zanla looked uncivilized, wild and savage, but despite that she was pretty calm and just wanted to be good with everyone.  
At least she found a place at the 'Turning Point', and so she had nothing left to do than spending her time here, slowly draining her savings and studying the diverse clientel. She took another sip of her drink and felt the pleasantry warm taste of the sweet mead and the alcohol that was already snuggling her senses.  
A demanding croak reminded her to give her familiar some more attention.  
"_Oh, i'm sorry, Beut._" she whispered to her toad, while her fingers gently caressed the animal that sat on the table.  
"_I know that everything of this is new to you, but trust me. We'll learn this together._"  
Comforted by her hand and calming words, Beut chuckled satisfied.  
Just a few tables from them sat a group of grumpy mercenaries, that threw suspicious looks at her from time to time. Zanla tried to smile back at them gently, but she failed completely and her odd grimace just increased their contempt. They looked away from her and began whispering things to each other. Zanla sighted. If only dwarfs, humans, elves and all the rest of them wouldn't be so hard to understand with their narrow-minded lack of openess...

The door was pushed open with a sudden loud noise. Many heads turned around to face the newcomer.  
Within the doorframe and surrounded by the nightly darkness outside stood someone who was quite as exotic as Zanla herself. An Ifrit, with red skin and bright hair that appears like living flames, moving wildly and relentless around his head.  
He seemed quite youthful and neat, the exact opposite to pretty much everyone else in here.  
With a very self-confident look on his face he entered the room and raised his arm for a sweeping gesture towards the innkeeper.  
"_My name... is Shyll Kah. So tell me, can a man get a drink here?_"  
He looked back at all the eyes that were turned in his direction.  
"_Or is everybody just gonna keep staring?_"  
The keeper eyed him and the heavy crossbow hanging from his belt suspiciously.  
"_So, ya can pay for sure, eh._" He grumbled. "_No weapons indoors._"  
The guests watched, as the Ifrit placed down his crossbow and bolts at a table next to the door, that was just there for this purpose. He then crossed the room and reached the bar.  
"_Look mate, i can think of how ya be earning cash._" the barman said. "_Lemme tell ya, if ya happen to somehow be... involved in the death of Lord Varon; not everyone though of him as the tyrant you got told about. He had many powerful friends._"  
Shyll Kah showed a big smile as he raised a bag, bulging with coins.  
"_So if thats the case, i hope you're none of them, 'cause my gold is as good as everyone else's and i'm thirsty. Wine! Serve me some wine. But of the good batch, not that old swamp water you're handing out to these peasants._"  
Without replying a word, the grumpy man vanished behind the kitchens door. Shyll looked around the tavern room, with that grin still on his face.  
Most of the customers had already looked away, but some guys kept staring at him with distrustful eyes. He then spotted Zanla, who immediately looked down and tried to appear as she was very interested in her drink.

"_What's the green one drinking?_" he asked the innkeeper as he returned with a dust covered bottle.  
As the man looked where Shyll was pointing at, he let out a loud laugh.  
"_Ya not goin' and try drinking that half-orc under the table, don't you? You'd die before that happens._"  
"_We'll see..._" Shyll returned with a one-sided grin.  
"_Or will ya try and make a move on her? **HAH!**_" his laugh got even louder.  
"_I don't know what ya think how hardened you are, but go and look for something else for bed. This one would shatter ya bones to pieces._"  
"_Do you really think i'm in the need of that? Look at how she's talking with that toad. This must be something magic, mystical, maybe even slightly maniac, but sure as hell interesting._"  
He passed a generous amount of coins to the innkeeper and pointed at the bottle.  
"_Go get me two more of these and two bottles of what shes drinking. Then we'll see who can hold his alcohol better._"  
"_Well, it's not my funeral._" The Innkeeper took the money and shrugged his shoulders before he went back to the kitchen.  
Shyll removed the cork from his bottle and filled the chalice he brought with him. He then raised it to the guys that were still looking at him and then walked over to Zanlas table.

"_May I...?_" he asked as he already sat down infront of her.  
"_Uh... well.. i think so?_" Zanla answered slowly, cause she couldn't get anything to her mind that would say otherwise. The furniture wasn't hers in the end.  
"_Brilliant!_" The ifrit raised his glass. "_I'm Shyll Kah, friends call me Shyll Kah. How are you called?_"  
"_Zanla. And this is Beut._" She pointed at the toad, that was somehow inspecting him with a critical eye. Shyll did a move as if he'd take off a hat in a royal gesture.  
"_I feel blessed, honourable being of the pond._" he announced in awe before getting back to her.  
"_I've never had the pleasure to share the drink with an half-orc, and neither with a toad, of course. So i'm inviting you today!_"  
In the past weeks she had been challenged from time to time and was never been defeated. Humans got quick tongues, but weak bodies, dwarfs were tougher, but even they couldn't best her.  
In comparison with her, this ifrit wasn't that impressive.  
And of course, it was a _challenge_, and she couldn't turn down a challenge infront of _her people_.  
Just the tough of measuring her skills with someone else let the orcish part of her blood boil hot through her veins. Beut encouraged her as well. "_Yes, you're right, Beut._"  
She nodded and Shyll smiled. As the bottles arrived, Shyll raised his chalice again, and so did Zanla. "_But let us enjoy this evening, so we don't end up like these guys over there._" He nodded in the direction where the both unconscious drinkers peacefully snorted. Zanla tried to show an intimidating grin.  
"_Agreed._"

And so they clinked their glasses for the first time.

* * *

"_And i promise you, as the fire is my judge, it was just like this: Across three high standing cornfields and between the legs of not less than four horses i shot my bolt that cut off one of the farmers hair locks. Y'all should've seen his face!_"  
Shyll roared with laughter and the group of people that had gathered around their table joined in. Zanla laughed as well, this guy was kinda impressive. After downing the first bottle of wine, he'd become quite talkative and shared many stories that _surely_ happened exactly like that.  
How he'd one-handedly outdone a baron with the crossbow, of beautiful elves whose hearts he'd stolen and is still chased by their whole kingdom for doing so, of heroic battle against brutal thugs, wild beasts and even dragons that he brought down by himself. His stories got wilder with every sip of wine and it didn't took long until a drunken audience had formed around them.  
Even though she was pretty sure that he had a somewhat elastic relationship with the truth, he was really skilled in telling stories and knew how to bind people to his words.  
Moreover, it got noticeably harder for her to keep track of everything thats going on, a result of her mead. Her fingers played around with her reddish brown hair.  
Her cheeks were quite hot already and she could see the same effect on Shylls as well, where his skin appears to get even more red, if that was even possible.  
He was clearly enjoying the attention he was getting from all the people, and she was quick to refill his wine when he got so carried away in one of his fantastic tales that he forgot doing it himself.  
She was clearly setting the pace, but Shyll didn't even thought on reducing the amount of details he was coming up with.  
He took a good gulp, and now it seemed like something was bothering him.  
"_So guys_" he said to his audience that looked at him eagerly. "_What's this supposed to be? You here for fun or what!?_"  
He clapped his hands.  
"_These people are thirsty! One round for the house on me!_" The people shouted happily and rushed towards the bar, leaving Shyll and Zanla alone for the moment.

She bent forward to Beut, nodded and spilled a small puddle of mead on the table, which the toad happily began to drink.  
Shyll took a deep breath. "_This wine is really neat. I wonder what gives it that harsh-sweet flavour..._"  
Zanla looked first at him, than at the bottle. "_Maybe it's 'The unique formula of northberries that make this wine a very special enjoyment, following the ancient tradition of the western woodclans'?_"  
Shyll raised an eyebrow.  
"_How do you come up with that? You didn't even tried it?_"  
A green finger pointed at the handwritten label on the bottle.  
"_It's written there._"  
He was a little surprised as he turned the bottle in his hands, looked at the highly decorated letters a bit and then laughed.  
"_Hah, well so. I've never though about you could be able to read._" He raised his hand calmingly. "_Nothing personal._"  
She shrugged her shoulders. "_Theres some half-orcs that are pretty simple. But there is the same amount of humans and elves that are just as dumb._"  
"_I can raise my glass to that._"  
Zanla poured herself another glass and put away the next empty bottle.  
"_Hang on!_" Shyll took out a brittle, yellowed piece of paper and handed it to her.  
"_Can you tell me what this says?_"  
Only then she noticed that this guy, that by own record had seen half of the world, whowas drinking expensive wine and wore fine fabrics, wasn't able to read by himself.  
She carefully unfolded the sheet, which was quite obviously a wanted poster with a depiction of a small boy drawn on it with thin lines. There wasn't much left of the original text. "_Hm, let me see... Wanted... bastard... threat of committing torching... pyromanic... reward.. that's everything i can make out of this._"  
Beut croaked to draw her attention on something.  
She looked at what Beut was pointing out and her fingers touched the face of the boy, which was surrounded by poorly drawn fire.  
"_Is this... you?_" she asked. Shyll nodded.  
"_Was really young back than. Thank you._"  
It was just for a second that she thought to spot just a little bit of melancholy in his face, that got immediately covered by his ever charming smile.  
As he stored away the paper, Zanla though if she should ask something to break this uncomfortable situation, but instead she just raised her glass again.  
"_**For that the past is gone and the future belongs to them who are ready to take it.**_"  
Shyll threw a drunken smile at her as he grabbed his wine.  
"_Well said._"  
They chugged down their drinks in one and he indicated the barman to bring more.

Zanla chuckled as Beut mentioned something.  
"_Yessss, but sadly it's beyond my power to summon mead._"  
"_**THATS** what i'd call a spell that would change the world!_"  
Shyll smiled over his drink.  
He wanted to say something more, but Rowen interrupted him from behind.  
"_Hey **burnhead**._"  
Without the both noticeing it, the human walked up to them.  
He was very drunk and appareantly on the search for trouble.  
They looked up to him, he smelled of cheap booze and chewing tobacco.  
"_I've never seen on of you **coal-kids**, but i'm familiar with guys like you. All bark and no bite._"  
Shyll opened his mouth for a big yawn and laid back before answering.  
These hostilities were so primitive.  
"_Listen, buddy, i prefer 'Flameborn'. And can't you see i'm busy talking with this beauty?_"  
Zanla, who obviously didn't get the sarcasm, was surprised and blushed a little.  
_Beauty_? Nobody called her that before. She gave Beut a questioning look.  
Rowen wasn't about to just go away. He came closer.  
"_Hah! Shyll is what you call yourself, right? Thats a name for women. I'm pretty sure i once had a cheap whore of the same name._"  
Shyll rolled his eyes. Oh boy, what a poor insult.  
Usually, he wouldn't turn down a single chance on a good old brawl, but this mysterious half-orc and her unusual behavious was much more interesting.  
It wasn't even fun to provoke such a simple fool. This guy was just annoying.  
Shyll answered in a pitiful tone of voice.  
"_Oh, what poor people you guys are, that all of your melodic names are passed to the women, so you men have to go with names of tools and cattle. Let me guess, you're of the honorful familiy called the '**Shit-Shovels**'?_"  
That was to much for Zanla, who bursted out in laugher. Not especially because of what Shyll said, but because of the idiotic expression on Rowens face, as he was desperately trying to get up with a reply. This was fueling his anger even more.  
"_You cheeky bastard won't dare to unsult Rowen Mofére ever again!_" He said while forming his hands to fists.  
"_Stop it, Rowen._" Zanla raised her hand. "_I like this one._"  
The human looked at her, obviously baffled. He then remembered why he was here and made ready for a blow on the sitting Shyll.  
But Zanla casually pushed him away, at least she tried so.  
The alcohol lowered her ability to control her body and so instead of just pushing him back a feet or two she send him flying into the next table, which collapsed and buried Rowen underneath its remains.  
Shyll and Zanla laughed like crazy.  
"_Great throwing! You're doing this on a regular basis?_" Shyll said.  
"_Well, not usually._" She looked at her arm.  
As Beut let out a questioning croak, she nodded and whispered back.

Their drinks arrived and Shyll filled their mugs.  
While he was doing that, Zanla observed his hair and its flame-like movements.  
I wonder, she thought, if it feels like normal hair, like fire, like something entirely else?  
It is moving after all... and it looks interesting, fascinating.. not only the hair tho.. whats that on his neck, coal-like scales?  
She slowly reached out to touch the strange hair material while Shyll became talkative again. As he noticed her interest, he smiled and let it happen.  
"_This is reminding me of that one time i had trouble with barbarians in the great desert north east of the woodland. I can tell you, never before did i encounter such vengeful scoundrels..._"

* * *

"**_HEY!_**"  
Zanla and Shyll were rudely wakened by the sudden scream.  
It was early in the morning and they've had spend the rest of the night still sitting on their table, appareantly.  
As they slowly sat up, multiple bottles fell to the ground with loud noise.  
The rest of the tavern was empty, but there was a stressed-out man, probably a farmer, standing in the door.  
"_You there! You look like you can fight. My farm is getting swarmed by wild creatures, i beg you, help me! I'll give you anything i can spare! **Please!**_"  
They both looked at each other, still wasted and overtired, and then, the great smile returned to Shylls face.  
"_You're up for an adventure?_"  
Beuts croaking sounded tired, but approving.  
Zanla nodded.

**Damn right, she was.**

* * *

**This is my first attempt at writing something for this rpg.  
****I wrote this as a birthday gift for a friend of mine, to show how our characters met for the first time.  
****English is not my first language so i'll be very thankful for corrections :)  
****I've also got the great artist Djinninthebox (look her up on instagram) to draw this scene. She did an awesome job!**


End file.
